


Knightly Additions

by kmj07



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmj07/pseuds/kmj07
Summary: Just a few extra scenes and one-shots to accompany Knight of Wands. Definitely need to read that to understand. Completed, unless my muse decided otherwise.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock's case was taking him longer than he'd expected, which was both exciting and frustrating for him. It involved a mime and a dwarf and a gruesome triple homicide, and anything more than that, Violet didn't want to know. She was up to her eyeballs trying to sort everything out with Gringotts, combining all of her accounts and Sherlock's, and the goblins weren't being particularly obliging, so there was no way she could help Sherlock with this case, as well. It didn't mean, however, that she didn't feel exceptionally anxious about it.

Even Harry had noticed a difference. "Lock will be okay, won't he, Auntie?" he asked as she tucked him in that night.

"Of course, he will be. He's Sherlock Holmes," she answered, grinning at him to hide her own insecurities.

She went over paperwork, staying up far longer than she would have otherwise, but still, Sherlock was still out. Deciding that, at this point, she was no longer actually accomplishing anything but shuffling papers, so she might as well go to bed. There may have been a bit of Sleeping Draught mixed in with her chamomile tea, but really only enough to help her get to sleep without staring at the bedroom ceiling for hours.

It was not enough to keep her asleep when two very familiar arms slipped around her. "Missed you today," she mumbled, allowing Sherlock to pull her against him tightly.

He didn't reply, simply buried his nose in her hair, allowing the scent of her to finally dissipate the stench of the alleyway. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked quietly.

Sherlock began, telling about the death at the circus, his face still in her hair. As he spoke, he tangled their fingers together, playing with the rings he'd placed on her ring finger. With his other hand, the one that had slipped under her neck to pillow her head on his arm, he traced random designs on her collarbone. He talked about the three policemen who'd been killed, and how Donovan was in surgery. He even told her about the cut to his stomach he'd received, though he had managed to heal it before anyone noticed. "It wasn't even serious," he was quick to assure her, taking note of her stiffening and simply pulling her closer to him.

Once he ran out of words, she continued to play with his curls, even for the awkward angle of reaching behind her. "I love you," she said softly, "so much."

It was if her words were the release he'd been waiting for. All the tension drained out of him as quickly as air out of a popped balloon. He lay still for a moment along the length of her, then, shifting so quickly she wasn't sure how he had done it, she was on her back with him leaning over her with a devastating smile on his face. "You know exactly the right thing to say to make me forget everything bad that ever happened in the world."

"Well, someone's got to help keep that brilliant mind under control," she grinned, reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair. It didn't do any good to keep it out of his face, since it simply fell right back to where it had been, but that wasn't why she'd done it. She simply loved the feel of it through her fingers.

And she knew Sherlock loved it, too, as evidenced by the darkening of his eyes just before he kissed her. "The curtain's open, Sherlock," she gasped out when he finally moved from her lips to her throat.

He waved his hand distractedly behind him, and the curtain fell to the floor with a crash. "Not anymore," he growled, cutting off her laugh with another heated kiss.

It was very early indeed before they finally fell asleep, but neither minded. Violet especially didn't mind when she woke to Sherlock still sleeping peacefully beside her at eight o'clock in the morning. It was rare enough that he slept, let alone so late or so well, that the sight of him, sprawled across the bed in a very good imitation of Harry in his sleep, warmed her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the first little scene! It takes place during Knight of Wands while Sherlock and Vi are still trying to figure out where Voldemort is hiding but they're stumped. I know it's a pretty short scene, but I thought you guys might like to have a fluffy scene every now and then!


	2. Chapter 2

A new potion, half-finished, sat in front of Violet, with the various ingredients strewn across the table. Her nose was currently nearly glued to the handwritten recipe in her left hand, trying to decipher Sirius's looping writing. With her right, she continued to stir anti-clockwise with a clockwise stir every fifth time around. Her hair had been imprisoned in a severe twist at the back of her head, secured with her wand, but the steam was making it frizz, and it threatened to escape.

Just as she was about to add the python scales, she heard Sherlock's footsteps coming up the stairs. She smiled, but still carefully shook out three scales, smile growing when the potion turned the lovely shade of chartreuse it was supposed to. Then she continued to stir, one clockwise for every five anti-clockwise.

"Where're the children?" Sherlock asked, sounding a bit desperate as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Violet kissed his cheek quickly, adding the essence of bergamot. "Playing with Neville," she said, reaching for the next ingredient, almond oil.

But Sherlock growled out, "Good," before spinning her and pressing a long, hungry kiss to her lips.

She pulled back with a laugh. "As happy as I am to see you, I am making a potion. One that's very time sensitive." She gasped the last bit out, as Sherlock had moved on to her throat and nipped at the particularly sensitive spot right over her pulse.

"You can make it later." His voice rumbled through her, causing shivers to run through her.

"There's some particularly expensive ingredients that we're wasting," she protested, though by this time she wasn't sure why.

"I'll buy you more." He kissed her lips again, hungry, needy.

And while she was rather enjoying his affections, Violet knew that something had to have caused it. "What's wrong?" she asked, after finally managing to pull back again.

Sherlock tried to kiss her again, but her hands on his chest stopped him. He sighed, deflating a bit, and shook his head. "This case… A man had his wife and child slaughtered in front of him, and he was so traumatized that he couldn't even remember what their attacker looked like. And I just- I can't lose you again, Vi. I lost you once and it nearly destroyed me. Losing you again would kill me, I know it."

She smiled gently, carding her fingers through his curls to soothe him. "I'm not going anywhere, and there aren't that many people who could forcibly take me away from you, so you've nothing to worry about, darling. Now, we've got another three hours before the children are supposed to be home, so why don't we go get lost in each other for a while?"

His answering wicked grin made her knees go weak. "But what about your potion?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"You can buy me more ingredients later," she said. "We've got more important things to do right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one! I'm thinking Harry's about seven or eight, making Camellia two-ish, just for context.


	3. Chapter 3

Violet, Cissa, and Mary met together often. On the days that John worked but Mary didn't, the other two frequently popped in for tea just before going to collect the boys from school. "I'm so glad I know you two," Mary sighed as she watched the two witches undo Rosie's accidental magic (bringing her stuffed rabbit to life, and then multiplying it). "I'm not sure how I would have dealt with this otherwise."

"See what you have to look forward to?" Cissa teased Violet. "You've only got another two months before you get to deal with Camellia's accidental magic, too."

Violet disagreed with a groan. "I'm fairly certain she's the reason I've been dreaming in cartoons. Because indigestion, mood swings, and back aches weren't enough of a problem."

"She's Sherlock's child," Mary laughed. "Can't be an easy one."

"I'm reminded of that every time her foot in my bladder wakes me at three in the morning," Violet said dryly. "She's already far too much like her father."

Her mobile ringing cut off any further response. "It's Anthea. Sorry, I should take this," she apologized to her friends, who simply waved it away. She answered with "Anthea, is something wrong?", knowing her sister-in-law had something important if she was calling instead of simply texting.

"You should call your sister."

"Call Pet- What? Why?"

"Trust me. You need to call her."

"Mycroft's got her under surveillance?"

"I've got everyone under surveillance. Everyone important to the family, anyway. Now, give her a call. She needs her big sister."

Violet ended the call somewhat mechanically. She looked at her mobile quizzically, then aimed her gaze at her two friends. "I need to make a call, apparently."

"You can use our bedroom," Mary volunteered.

"And I'll pick Harry up, if your call goes too long," Cissa added.

Violet nodded gratefully, heading into the proffered room. Once the door was shut behind her, she selected a number from her contacts she hadn't called in over a year, ever since she'd got Harry. With a deep breath to support herself, she hit dial.

The line rang twice, before a hesitant "Hello? Violet?" answered her.

"Petunia," she said coolly, but then had no idea what to say after that.

An awkward silence filled the line between them, until Petunia finally cracked. "I need your help, Vi," she whispered.

Violet could hear the tears in her little sister's voice, but the memory of Harry at the Dursleys' steeled her against any softening. "Why should I help you?" she shot back, anger filling her every word. "After what you did to Harry, how could you possibly-"

"Dudley's got magic," Petunia cut her off, tone soft, but still able to be heard. "Dudley's got magic, and I can't hide it anymore, and Vernon's gone utterly mental, and I'm afraid for Dudley. I know I don't deserve help, but he needs you. I'll do whatever you say, anything at all, just help him."

Violet was quiet for a moment, letting the new information settle in her mind. "Even if I say you have to give Dudley to me?" She didn't mean it, of course, but she wanted to see just how much Petunia meant it.

A soft sniffle reached her ear, then "If that's what I need to do to keep him safe."

"I'm not going to take your child, Petunia. I can hardly handle the two I've got. I don't need another. But you will need to leave Vernon. I won't help you if you insist on staying-"

Petunia cut her off again. "I left him this morning. I'm afraid for Dudley. I'm not letting him hurt him."

"You mean, unlike what you did for Harry?" Violet knew she was being rather petty, but she also wasn't about to just brush the past under the rug.

"I can't take back what I allowed to happen to Harry," Petunia started, sounding a bit breathless, like she was still holding back tears. "But I am sorry, Vi. I was just so scared that Vernon would find out about Dudley, and if he was focused on Harry, he wasn't focused on Dudley. I know it was wrong. I was just so scared."

"You're a bloody adult, Petunia!" Violet screamed. "They are children! You do the adult thing and protect them! You leave the bloody whale and protect the children in your care, regardless of their parentage."

"I'm not like you," Petunia whispered. "Not like Lily. I'm not brave. I don't have any skills, can't take care of myself. Everything is in Vernon's name. I've got nothing but what little Mum and Dad left me, and that's for Dudley's education. What was I supposed to do?"

"Protect them," Violet spat back. "You could have come to me."

"With your Death Eater husband? He would have killed me, and the boys. Is that what you would have wanted for us?"

Violet shook her head. Blaming Petunia got neither of them anywhere. And she couldn't exactly argue with that point. "Where are you? I'll meet you, and we'll see what I can do."

Petunia gave her the name and address of what sounded like a rather seedy hotel. She promised to be there within the hour, then quickly got off the line. Emerging from Mary and John's room, she shook her head at her two closest friends. "Apparently, Dudley has magic," she announced, feeling rather dazed by the news.

"I didn't think anything magic would be able to survive contact with that whale's DNA," Mary quipped, rather surprised.

"Evans girls are rather strong," Cissa countered, a tiny smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, well, this Evans girl wants to strangle the other," Violet replied, then shook her head again. "You'll pick up Harry, won't you, Cissa? I'll let Sherlock know to collect him from yours."

"Go do what you need. We'll take care of things here," Cissa assured, with Mary nodding in agreement. "And it sounds like you'll have quite the story to tell when you're done."

"Thanks, ladies, I don't know what I'd do without you," Vi sighed, collecting her coat and handbag.

"And you never have to find out," Mary smirked. "Go deal with your sister."

A quick text to her husband later, and Vi was spinning on her heel. When she landed, an alley over from where she'd meant to be and feeling rather nauseous, she shook her head. "I should have gotten a taxi," she muttered to herself. But she pushed the nausea down and headed to the hotel.

At the door of room 142, she stared at the peeling paint and the suspicious stain, trying to work up the motivation to knock. "You're being ridiculous," she told herself. "Being pregnant and hormonal may mess with your magic, but it does not give you license to be an idiot. And you can stop talking to yourself at any time now." With a shake of the head at her own absurdity, she knocked twice firmly.

A shuffle sounded on the other side of the door, and then she saw the sister she'd sworn she wouldn't see again. She took in the pinched-more-than-usual mouth, and the deep bags under the eyes, the dull hair, and less-than-impeccable clothes in an instant.

"Vi," Petunia said, or really, exhaled. It seemed that with that one word, all the tension holding her together seeped out of her body, leaving a rather limp person behind.

"Petunia," Vi replied, still rather coolly. "Might I come in?"

The little sister blushed, pushing the door further. "Of course. Please. I'd offer you something, but we don't really have much in the way of refreshments at the moment."

"I wasn't expecting tea." Immediately upon entering the room, Vi spotted Dudley, curled up on the single bed, watching telly, or at least pretending to. But, given the size of the room, it wasn't really possible for her to miss him, given that a postage stamp might have been bigger. "Hello, Dudley. I'm your Aunt Violet. Do you remember me?" she asked, her tone much kinder than it had been with his mother.

"You took Harry," he whispered, looking rather frightened. "Are you going to take me?"

She smiled softly, trying to project a kind aura. It was hard, since she knew he'd been encouraged to bully Harry. But that wasn't his fault, she reminded herself. "Not without your mummy," she promised.

"Was I very bad?" he asked, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin and popping his thumb in his mouth.

"No, of course not, darling," Petunia hurried to assure him, scurrying to his side to pet his hair. "Of course not! Why would you ever think that?"

"'Cause Harry was very bad, and then she camed and took him away."

Violet, for the first time since she'd become pregnant, was glad for needing to carry her wand with her. She pulled it from her handbag and let Dudley look at it. "Do you know what this is, Dudley?" He shook his head, though his eyes never strayed from the thin piece of wood in front of him. "This is a magic wand."

"'S no such think as magic," he stated, like it was something he'd heard many times over.

And Violet knew, without any assistance, just where he'd heard it. "If there's no such thing as magic, could I do this?" she asked, then, not waiting for any response, turned his blanket pink, the drapes a far less eye-damaging shade of green, and Petunia's shirt a far more flattering shade of blue.

Dudley's eyes grew wide. "Mummy! Did you see that? She's like me!"

"She is," Petunia replied wetly. "And so is Harry."

His eyes fell. "Is that why Daddy was mad? 'Cause I gots magic?"

Violet answered that quickly, before Petunia even had the chance. "Your father is a very small-minded person, Dudley. He doesn't understand things that are different from what he knows, and that makes him upset. But you, and Harry, did nothing wrong. Magic isn't bad, not unless you use it to do something bad. Do you understand?"

Dudley looked at her for a long moment, before nodding slowly. "Daddy doesn't like magic, Dudders," Petunia continued softly. "That's why he was mean to Harry, and that's why we had to leave. But Aunt Violet is here to help us."

"Yes, I am," Violet said, smiling at the little boy in front of her. If she chose to, she could forget all the bullying he'd done to Harry and simply see a rather adorable child, and that's what she chose to do. For now, at least. "So, first things first, we're going to get you two into a better hotel room. I'm not entirely sure you won't catch something from this one," she added in an undertone. "Let's get you packed up."

It took all of five minutes to pack all their belongings, with Petunia babbling thanks the entire time. A taxi took them to a much better part of London, where a quick mention of the Holmes name got them keys to a suite in no time. Violet made a quick mental note to thank Anthea, leading the way to the lift.

The women got Dudley settled in his very own room, with his very own telly, then moved into the other bedroom for a more private conversation. "You'll have to get a job, Petunia," Violet pointed out. "I won't support you forever."

"I don't expect you to," Petunia rushed to assure. "I'll start looking tomorrow. Though, I'm not sure what I'll be able to find. It's not like I've ever had a job before."

"Marrying right out of school seems to be an Evans trait," Vi smirked, allowing just a tinge of her anger to dissipate.

Petunia laughed shortly. "At least you and Lily married for love. Well, eventually, anyway," she said, eying the rather prominent bump Violet was sporting. "I only married so I wouldn't be alone."

"But you learned better, and I refuse to let you make the same mistake twice," Vi pronounced. "My little sister is worth far more than to be used as a pretty ornament on some man's arm. Although, it is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is with a poor one," she added, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Laughing again, Petunia shook her head. "I'm not looking for another man anytime soon," she swore. "I'm going to focus on Dudley, and keeping a roof over our heads."

A quiet moment stretched between them, somewhat comfortable. Until Petunia broke it with "Can I see Harry?"

"Absolutely not," Violet instantly spat, all angry maternal instinct and determination to avoid further pain for her boy. "You've done quite enough. I've only just gotten him to stop having nightmares of being locked in a cupboard."

Petunia's face, already pale from stress, paled further. "I can never make up for what I allowed Vernon to do," she whispered. "But I'd like to apologize. Someday, when you're ready, I'd like to apologize. I know it doesn't excuse what I did, what I permitted, but I am so sorry."

"And you think that's enough?" Vi screamed back. "Being sorry is somehow enough to wipe away years of abuse heaped on a little boy? On Lily's boy? You know that if the roles were reversed, she would have taken Dudley in without a second thought and loved-"

"I know! I know Lily was a much better person than I could ever hope to be! She would never have stood for it, never married a monster like Vernon in the first place, because she was perfect! You and she both were so perfect, so utterly sure of yourselves and your places in the world. But where is there a place for the utterly ordinary, plain sister of two brilliant witches? Where do I fit in our family? I'm not like you, Vi, not like Lily. I'm not brave, or clever, or brilliant, and I was scared. I took the first offer I got, because I seriously doubted any other would come after. And if he was a little too opinionated, a little too overbearing, I told myself that it could be worse. At least he didn't beat me. At least I had a roof over my head and food to eat, pretty clothes to wear. And then, after a few years, he got a bit physical, shoving me around if dinner wasn't ready when he got home, a bit of a slap if the house wasn't perfect. And then Dudley came, and I swore to myself that I would take anything he dealt out, if it meant he didn't touch my son."

Petunia stood at the foot of the bed, staring her sister down with an intensity Violet had never seen from her. Tears streamed down her face, but she ignored it in favor of continuing her story. "Then, Lily died, and Harry was dropped off on my doorstep with a note, like something written down could ever explain all the ways my world had suddenly changed. My beautiful, amazing baby sister was dead, and here was her traumatized baby that now depended on me. A baby who was used to a house full of magic, and never had thought he might have to hide it. Vernon didn't want to take him in the first place, but only let me when I begged him. I managed to cover up Harry's magic, just like I had with Dudley, but it got harder as they got older. And then Vernon saw Dudley changing the oatmeal colours, and he blamed Harry. And I was secretly relieved."

She brushed the tears away almost absently, like she didn't even know why she was doing it. "I hated myself for it, but I was relieved that Vernon blamed Harry. If he blamed Harry, then he wouldn't blame Dudley. That was the first time Harry got sent to the cupboard. But when Harry exploded the jug of milk all over Vernon, that was the first time he hit him. I tried to stop him, and ended up matching Harry's black eye."

Violet was quiet, processing this new information. But Petunia wasn't quite done. "I tried, what I could, to keep him safe. I reminded him of what Vernon had told him to do, or did it myself when I could without Vernon noticing. But I couldn't hide everything. And I'll never be able to forgive myself for everything he went through. Or for those times that I was secretly glad it was him and not Dudley. I know it wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and I'll have to live with that the rest of my life."

Violet wasn't entirely ready to forgive her, but she definitely thawed a bit towards her. "Well, neither of the boys will ever see Vernon again, I can assure you that. We can get the divorce proceedings started in the morning-"

Petunia sat down suddenly, paling further. "Divorce," she whispered, somewhat fearfully.

"You weren't going back to him, so I assumed you'd divorce him," Vi said, holding herself back from reading her sister's mind to figure out just what she was thinking.

But Petunia answered her quickly enough. "No, I suppose I will, I just- You know me, always trying to be the picture-perfect daughter, wife, mother. And well, divorce sort of destroys that option entirely, doesn't it?" she asked, a self-deprecating grin on her lips.

"You don't have to be anyone but you, Peta," Vi said softly, going to sit next to her. "There's absolutely no need for you to pretend anymore. You could even wear pyjamas out of the house if you wanted to."

Both women laughed at the thought. "I'll keep that in mind, Vi."

In a move that was both brave and calculated, Vi ventured, "Once you're settled in, with a new job and house and everything, I'll talk to Harry, see if he wants to see you. I'll explain what I can, and then we'll let him decide if he wants to visit. But it's entirely up to him. I won't force him to do anything."

"I wouldn't want you to. Thank you, Vi. For everything, really. Thank you."

"What are big sisters for, if not for rescuing their little sisters when they can?"

…

Petunia's divorce was settled rather quickly, once Vernon's lawyer saw the pictures of Vernon with various other women, courtesy of Sherlock, of course. In the end, Petunia was granted half of their joint property, and sole custody of Dudley, something that wasn't contested by Vernon, to no one's real shock. But it was done and taken care of by Petunia and Dudley's first Christmas in their new flat, in a rather trendy part of London. But far enough away from Baker Street to keep Sherlock pacified.

But the real surprise was just how well Petunia was fitting into her new job. At Anthea's suggestion, Mycroft had offered a position at MI6. Not as an agent, of course, she had a child to think of, not to mention Violet would have murdered him for even thinking it. No, she started as a receptionist, quickly moving to be the personal secretary for the Head of the Secret Intelligence Service. Her quick, and accurate, observations in the slightest interactions proved invaluable to the stern, implacable woman, on a near-hourly basis. It also helped having someone who at least understood the magical world to explain certain things. Someone other than Mycroft, of course.

…

Over the course of several years, Harry was able to overcome his misgivings toward his only biological aunt and cousin. He was kind and gracious, as he was to everyone, but never terribly close to either, though he did try. And so the adults allowed visits between the children to drift further apart, though Petunia was often included in hen dos with Vi, Cissa, and Mary. And even Anthea, on occasion.

It was during one such night that a rather large bomb was dropped on the group. They'd all been to dinner together and were settling in for drinks when Anthea turned to Petunia. "I've heard that Q has been making rather frequent visits to the big office." Her tone was completely matter-of-fact, but no one could miss the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Petunia, to her credit, hardly batted an eye, though a faint pink grew on her cheeks and down her neck. "Q found out that I know of magic, so he's been asking me questions about what can and can't work with magic. I've told him that, as a second-generation Squib, I'm hardly qualified to answer most of his questions, but he keeps coming back with more."

"Q?" Vi asked, big sister tendencies at full alert. "The quartermaster?"

"Indeed," Anthea replied, sipping her cocktail to hide her smirk. It didn't quite succeed. "He's rather handsome, for a younger man."

"Younger men have far more stamina," Cissa told Petunia knowingly. "It's glorious."

"I think that's Remus's heightened abilities more than his youth," Mary countered. "And younger men might have more stamina, but older men have more experience."

Vi hummed in mild agreement. "I think it really depends on the man," she supposed. "And how he feels about you, of course, what he's willing to do for you."

"Well, if the length of Q's visits to the office are any indication," Anthea began, grinning in triumph. And with a slight alcohol buzz. "Then, I think he'd be willing to do just about anything Petunia wanted."

The pink staining her cheeks grew a bit darker, but Petunia stayed composed. "Yes, well, Q is rather good with his hands. He does make most of the tools the agents use in the field, after all." The pink only furthered at the hoots of the other women around the table.

Vi was rather happy with this news, and even happier when she attended Petunia's wedding a little over a year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess this makes it a bit of a three-way crossover, with that tiny splash of 007 at the end. But I've been wanting to write this for a while now, and it didn't quite fit in to the framework of Knight of Wands, so this is the main reason for the Additions. This will probably be my last Addition, unless my muse decides otherwise.


End file.
